The Past should Stay the Past
by goddess123452003
Summary: Mystique has an accident and transports us through her past including, kurt's birth(we find out who Kurt's father is), her parents, and past lovers. My version of Mystiques secret past.
1. Young love

The Past should Stay the Past

Disclaimer: Hey I thought since everyone else is always putting one, why shouldn't I? So I'll get to the point, I don't own any marvel (x-men) characters. Thanks, now on to the story….

Mystique's POV 

It is nearly midnight. I sit silently, crouched, hardly moving as I watch him from my hiding place in the oak tree. Though tonight, I am not the hunter, nor am I searching for particular prey. The full moon is rising, illuminating my nude body. When you're a blue shape-shifting mutant, believe me, clothing is optional. I must admit my nakedness feels far better than the leather of my brotherhood uniform.

It is not a cold night, thankfully, and my place in the tree is not altogether uncomfortable. I have experienced worse. Motionlessly, I continue to watch him. It's amazing how fast children grow. Here I am now, looking at his lanky teenage form lounging lazily on a large bed of unmade covers. He seems not to have a care in the world, although I know far differently.

It seems like just yesterday I was looking at a small blue bundle of fur yawing with sleepiness, opening his mouth to be fed. Humph, though I know it wasn't yesterday. Yesterday, Lance had another one of his fits and threw Toad none-to-gently into the kitchen wall. Damn, that means another check down the drain. Money never comes fast enough in that house. But enough about those idiots, my son is far more important.

He doesn't notice me. In truth, I don't expect him to, I'm far too superior a master of disguise for him to become aware of me. Besides he seems to have other "concerns" at the moment. He smiles, at what I have no idea, which in turn makes me feel a grin tugging at my own lips. He is so handsome. Yes, if there is one thing I can say about my son, it is that he got my looks.

Kurt is exceptionally well built and flexible. Tall, lean, and graceful, he reminds me of a ballet dancer one breath before movement. Beautiful onyx hair slides over his masculine shoulders and spills down his back in a cascade of loveliness. Golden eyes framed by long almost feminine eyelashes. Even his skin, taunt with raw muscle, is perfect in it's indigo coloring, almost mirroring my own.

Looking at him I see myself, younger of course. Although he may deny it, we are two of a kind.In my teens,I had the same dark hair, as he possesses now, hence the name Raven Darkholme. Where his face is sharp and elfin, mine is angular and gaunt, finely lined by mature age. Amazingly, I once possessed the same musical laughter, well-developed body( still do), and free spirit.

But there is one thing Kurt possesses that I never shall again…the ability to truly love. Kurt is so open, so…vulnerable. He trusts eagerly and openly, something I fear shall be his down fall one day. He sees the good in all creatures, willing to overlook the more pronounced evils. Yes, Xavier has blinded him to the true ways of the world, something I shall have to remember to pay him back for later.

The music is loud; I can hear it perfectly from my position. It's not rock or punk, as with many young teenagers today, it's…if I can make it out correctly…Darren Hayes (I happen to be able to see the CD cover).

Actually, I can all around his room, the large wooden bed in the center of the room covered with black sheets, the thick, plush gunmetal gray carpet that covers the floor, the big screen TV (that thankfully isn't dusty), the small wooden table complete with a small blue lamp, the closest lined with numerous old navy clothes, and the posters of groups called: Maroon 5, Savage Garden, and The Moffats.

_When moonlight crawls along the street  
Chasing away the summer heat…_

The music is soft and inviting. Unwillingly, I find myself swaying to the music. STOP!

"Mystique, get a hold of yourself!" I scream internally. Kurt doesn't seem to have the same restrictions as I do; his lithe body is rhythmically dancing to the beat of the music. I grin; that boy can have rhythm when he wants to.

_Footsteps outside somewhere below  
The world revolves I've let it go_

Abruptly, he stops, as he had just remembered something important he had forgotten. He puts the CD on pause. With surprising quickness he makes the untidy bed. I stroke my chin; I must say I am intrigued, what is that boy up to? Hmm, whatever it is it must be good.

With renewed interest, I observe him. Unexpectedly, Kurt teleports somewhere out of my line of sight. Damn, just when my curiosity was starting to get peeked. I sigh softly, a sound that soon dies out on the quietly blowing wind. "Well," I reason with myself, "It's time for you to be getting back to the house anyway. Make sure Lance hasn't killed Toad."

I start to turn away and leave for the night, when the sound of soft laughter reaches my ears. Turning back to the window, I see Kurt has reentered and has brought someone along with him. Ebony skinned, tall, and giggling, my eyes rest on his girlfriend, Amanda. I laugh softly to myself, what could two teenage kids who have been forbidden to see each other possibly be doing alone in the middle of the night? It doesn't take a brain scientist to figure out what's going on.

Dressed in a pair of blue frayed denim hip-huggers (that is the word kids are using these days, right?) and a black tube top with the words "Never Kiss& Tell" inscribed across the front, Amanda giggles, locked in a passionate embrace with Kurt. Well this isn't totally unexpected; I have been here a few times before while the teens were ahem "together". Maybe I should feel ashamed of myself, watching them, invading their privacy. Ha! I don't, I'm his mother I should be allowed the simple joys of parenthood.

As I am having this little inner discussion with myself, I see that Kurt has restarted the stereo system and the CD along with it.

_We build our church above the street  
We practiced love between these sheets_

What a seemingly fitting song for the occasion. Kurt is no longer truly interested in the song, his eyes now on Amanda. I have seen that look before the look the two are exchanging. _Lust_. Yes, it's the look of lust, of fiery passion. I myself have possessed this same look many times, although not during recent years.

_The candy sweetness scent of you  
It bathes my skin I'm stained of you_

Surprisingly, I like this…Amanda. Physically she is beautiful, but that is more Kurt's benefit than my own. This girl, I sense truly cares about my son.

_And all I have to do is hold you  
There's a racing within my heart_

Amanda is sweet, although far from innocent. She is docile but not so much that she isn't strong enough to love Kurt regardless of the fact that many around her, detest their relationship. Yes, though he may not know it, Kurt needs someone who can not only love him, but also be strong for him. I find that Amanda is all of these things. Of course, I had to check out her background first.

What kind of mother would I be if I didn't? For a few weeks I trailed her, pulled up her records on the school's computers, got basic information. Also, I observed how she acted around Kurt and vise versa. The term "puppy love" was written all over both of them. If my heart weren't long frozen, this would have moved me. However, it did satisfy the part of me that wanted Kurt to be happy. Amanda pleased him; therefore Amanda was all right with me.

Obviously, she was all right with Kurt to, more than alright. While I had been deep within my thoughts, Kurt and Amanda had released some of theirs. Amanda was lying sprawled across the bed, her brown plaited hair fanning out across the pillow like some exotic bird. The top she had been wearing was now forgotten on the floor, and Kurt was quickly working at her jeans to ensure they came to the same end.

_And I am barely touching you_

I admit to not having hearing as exceptional as Logan's or Victor's but I do pretty well.

"Kurt, I-I-I!"

Amanda's futile attempt at a sentence died upon her lips in a moan. Kurt's mouth hastily claimed hers in a searing kiss of passion as his hands explored lower regions of her body. My, my he does work fast, doesn't he? I chuckle to myself to watch the two of them, so hasty, so feverish, so demanding.

Turn the lights down low  
Take it off  
Let me show  
My love for you  
Insatiable

"No, No, No," I want to tell them, "Take your time. Enjoy it." A stray strand of hair leaps into my eyes; dismissing it, I tuck it behind my ear. Kurt is now shirtless, his muscular chest heaving, caving, and twisting with his rapid movements. Whoever coined the phrase washboard abs must have envisioned my son. Amanda was fairing slightly better, her pants now deposited on the floor, she lies in only her bra and panties, both of which Kurt is making short work of.

_Turn me on  
Never stop  
Wanna taste every drop  
My love for you  
Insatiable_

"Lieber Lord, welche Schönheit," he breathed heavily as the clasp to Amanda's bra feel away revealing large well-formed breasts. Well, well the games have begun. Amanda's taunt nipples harden as Kurt's hands run tenderly over them. As I watch her now, I think Amanda has lost the ability to form coherent sentences. Kurt seems to have become somewhat of an archeologist because he seems to be exploring every inch of the woman moaning beneath him.

_The moonlight plays upon your skin  
A kiss that lingers takes me in_

Amanda throws back her head and moans, her face distorting delightfully with ecstasy. Meanwhile, Kurt's hands have accomplished their mission, and Amanda is fully nude on the large bed, not to mention his pants have found their way next to hers on the floor. The lust in Kurt's eyes grows.

_I fall asleep inside of you  
There are no words  
There's only truth_

"Durch die Götter sind Sie atemberaubend," he half-moans half-whispers in Amanda's ear. Right now I wish I could remember some of the German language I once knew, but whatever he's saying to her has reduced Amanda to whimpers. Tightly she clenches the sheets as Kurt continues to reduce her to a pile of high-pitched moans. Now, I understand why the music's so loud, very ingenious Kurt, very ingenious.

_Breathe in breathe out  
There is no sound_

_We move together up and down_

As I watch them, a tangle of limbs, moans, and grunts, I remember the times when lovers held me like that, whispered softly in my ear, and made me cry out with pleasure. I remember the serene nights and the secret games we played. Hmph,I long ago traded power for affection without a second thought. Now love is a game to me, one I'd rather not play. Nevertheless, it is interesting to watch.

_We levitate our bodies soar  
Our feet don't even touch the floor_

Returning my thoughts to the two lovers, I grin, teeth bared. Kurt is really going at it, I must say. He may not be very assertive as an X-man but as a lover he seems to be very dominating. Amanda's panting heavily as Kurt releases his manhood from its captivity. I almost laughed aloud; the look on Amanda's face could only be described as sheer and utter astonishment. I don't believe she could have looked any more surprised if Kurt had sprouted three heads and an extra arm.

_But nobody knows you like I do  
'Cause the world may not understand  
That I grow stronger in your hands_

"Holy mother Mary of Jesus, it gets bigger every time I see it," Amanda exclaims openly staring at Kurt's throbbing member. I can't contain it anymore; I quickly morph into a small bat and let the sound escape me as a nocturnal cry. Even Kurt smiles and lets out a small chuckle. I shift back into my previous form and continue watching, a dull ache now in my heart, but for what I do not understand.

_Turn the lights down low  
Take it off  
Let me show  
My love for you  
Insatiable_

Kurt nestles his head between her legs. I blink, slightly surprised by this, it's something new. Amanda's moans grow louder and louder and I watch her body teeter and tremble. Her hips are bucking off the ground wildly, and for a moment I am afraid she'll fall off the bed. I am now vaguely aware of my own body responding to the scent of their lovemaking.

"Control yourself, Mystique," I forcefully scold myself.

I snort; I can hardly remember the last time a man was between my legs. Of course, Magneto and I have our bouts from time to time, but they mean nothing, they are just ways to achieve physical gratification for both of us. There is no love involved. Just _Wham, bam, thank you ma'am_. What I mean to say is I can't remember the last time a man, I truly wanted, touched me. Enough! I will not allow myself to fall prey to my memories. Remember, Mystique, love is a weakness.

_Turn me on  
Never stop  
Wanna taste every drop  
My love for you  
Insatiable_

Finally, I see Kurt come up, his eyes shining devilishly. Amanda is hunched on her elbows staring at him, her eyes glazed over with lust and pleasure.

_We never sleep we're always holdin' hands  
Kissin' for hours talkin' makin' plans_

_"_Oh, schmecken Sie, Sie schmecken... köstlich," Kurt says a smile playing across his face as he slowly licked his lips.

Amanda nods vigorously, "A ucchi cucchi and a fetachinni to you too," she says before she pulls him into a zealous kiss. Kurt is starting to loose his grip on reality as his mind melts into her kiss. Gently but forcibly Kurt grabs Amanda's arms and pins them above her head. His eyes blazing with a god-like fury, roam her body. Smoothly, Kurt parts Amanda's thighs till I can see the dark nest of curls that rest there.

_Feel like a better man  
Just being in the same room_

Her sent is apparently driving him mad. Without hesitation, he straddles her thick hips. Amanda is in no way objecting, who could blame her? I surely don't. In one quick motion Kurt is embedded inside her.

"Fluch, Ihr so festes, vorzüglich fest," Kurt groans into her ear. 

_We never sleep there's just so much to do  
So much to say  
Can't close my eyes when I'm with you  
Insatiable the way I'm loving you_

Amanda's whole body seems to levitate off the bed as she throws her head back and screams with delight. The moon now illuminates, both their naked sweat drenched bodies. The sent of their lovemaking is strong, and has wafted out the window into the night air. Kurt takes a few moments to compose himself, before he starts thrusting mercilessly into Amanda. Swiftly, Amanda catches his pace and matches it.

"Ohhh," Amanda screams as both she and Kurt start to reach their climax, climbing higher and higher in the height of their passion.

_Turn the lights down low  
Take it off  
Let me show  
My love for you  
Insatiable_

It's almost beautiful, their bodies melding into each other in the luminescent moonlight. No, I am not ashamed of watching them. They are…beautiful, these creatures, my son and his mate. Kurt focuses solely on Amanda, and she on him as a violent wave of power flooded through both of them as they climax. Kurt releases a exultant roar, unlike any I have every heard before (even after living in a house with Victor Creed a.k.a. Sabertooth).

_Turn me on  
Never stop  
Wanna taste every drop  
My love for you  
Insatiable_

In this moment I am proud of my son. I am always proud of Kurt, but watching him take that woman, dominate her, and use her for his gratification has me swollen with pride. Maybe there is some hope for him yet. Could it be possible that he inherited more than just good looks from me? Perhaps it is possible to undo all the damage done by Xavier with his non-mutant-mutant love crap. I will not give up.

_Turn the lights down low  
Take it off  
Let me show  
My love for you  
Insatiable_

Now, he is resting, his head on Amanda's breast, his breathing coming in deep intakes. Ha, Amanda must have worn him out. Bravo! Languidly, Amanda's spread out beneath him, her breathing quick and shallow, her cheeks are flushed, her hair is mussed (If I'm not mistaken during their little triathlon, Kurt pulled out at least five of her braids), her lips are parted and swollen, and her eyes…her eyes gaze adoring down at Kurt. If I'm not mistaken I believe I see a tear upon her cheek. Yes, I remember far to well the pleasure and pain of being in love.

_Turn me on  
Never stop  
Wanna taste every drop  
My love for you  
Insatiable_

Finally, the song on the radio ends. It was pretty, very melodic. These days I don't really have the luxury of listening to music. I turn my thoughts back to Kurt, who looks angelic lying softly atop of Amanda. I laugh tenderly, it's amazing how different two people can look after a round of sex.

I feel the smile that plays upon my lips. It's funny, I seem to smile so much around Kurt, and he seems to smile so much we he's not around me (or at least when he thinks he's not around me). I am now vaguely aware of the fact that I'm naked, and the wind has gotten chiller. Taking one last glance at the couple, still wrapped up in each other, I blow them a farewell kiss, and I depart. They may be contently lying together now, but I know that when morning comes Amanda will be gone, and Kurt will be alone in his bed.

Any evidence of what has occurred her tonight will be gone. I feel a tremor in my heart for Kurt. As my son, I want him to be happy, to have a fulfilling life, to have everything I never had. In the daylight hours, he must act as if there is nothing between him and the woman he loves. I know this takes a toll on both of them.

I have too often seen the poignant look in his eyes when she goes away. The crystal tears, that line his cheeks when no one is around. Oh, how I wish I could wipe away those tears and sooth that aching heart. But alas, my time as mother has comforting mother has passed, short as it may have been, I took pleasure in it. Do I regret it?

Do I miss playing mother to Kurt? Of course, but I have moved on, as has he. It is now Amanda's turn, I hope she knows what she's getting into. I say this, but I know neither of them has a clue as to the hardships that will soon befall them. They are young, clueless, and although not entirely ignorant to the ways of the world, not entirely educated on it either.

At this thought, I also feel a quiver for Amanda; I myself had once had to care for a man in secret, to be his lover by night, and a complete stranger by day. It takes a toll on one both mentally and physically. Not many relationships can survive like this, though for both there sakes I hope theirs does.

Dwelling on my thoughts, I change into an owl. I fly swiftly to the house I dread entering, the residence (if that's what one could call it) of the Brotherhood of Mutants. Ha! Brotherhood my blue ass. We are as far from brotherly as one could find. I see it, as I land in front of the entrance.

A tall, two story, brown, mammoth of ruin. The shutters are dangling, the paint is chipped and old, even the door is hanging on a wing and a prayer. I sigh heavily as I enter. The lights are off everything is dark; this poses no problem for me, as I see as well in the dark as I do in the light. Making my way inaudibly up the wrecked stairs, I hear nothing.

Wait, scratch that, I do hear something. A deep bellowing is coming from the west end of the hall. I would investigate, but there's no need, I've spent enough time here to know that the sound is Fred snoring. Not the most pleasing sound in the universe. Turning around, I walk to my room.

Perhaps, the term _our_ room would have been more appropriate. By our, I mean Eric and I's. When I walk in, there he is, as always. By always I mean, the times he chooses to visit our little happy home. Not surprisingly, he's still awake, lying in bed reading the latest issue of TIME magazine. No doubt, there's probably an article on mutants in there somewhere, otherwise he wouldn't be reading it.

As I approach the bed he silently nods, just a greeting of acknowledgement. His sharp eyes watch my body unresponsively. He does not ask where I have been. Nor, do I voluntarily tell him. There are some things that are just too private to share, even with Eric.

Although, I have a sneaking suspicion he knows about my little expeditions to watch Kurt. He may not be a telepath, like Xavier, but the man is by no means stupid. He knows of my feelings toward Kurt, he has always known. He just doesn't voice them; there is no need. Quietly, I slip under the covers, scooting next to his body for warmth.

Fortunately, he doesn't take this the wrong way. I don't feel like being touched tonight. I want to be alone with my thoughts. As if he has read my mind, Eric turns off the lights and places the magazine on the nightstand. Fatherly, he kisses my forehead and turns over. In moments, I hear the soft rise and fall of his restful breathing. I fear, I will not sleep so easily tonight.

Author's notes: This is my first story with Mystique as a main character. This story is my interpretation of Kurt's birth (since they never make it truly clear in the series). Also, the line where Amanda says "A ucchi cucchi and a fetachinni to you too" is from the movie B.A.P's (Black American Princesses). If you haven't seen the movie, go rent it. It's hilarious and all around feel good movie. Plus, you see Halle Berry play a chicken head. All German translation is from the AltaVista translation site. This was my first time writing a somewhat (by somewhat I mean it could have been more graphic) explicit sexual scene, I actually found it really hard. Not that I view sex as bad or anything (I'm a big hentai fan, if that says anything)…it was just so hard putting the scene into words. But I hope I did well enough, that you (the reader) got the point. The next chapter will focus on Kurt; it's going to be shorter than this one, because the story really revolves around Mystique and her past. I'm also taking some advice from some of my reviewers, I won't write Kurt's dialogue with accent (ex: where I would have written zere, I'll now write it as there, because you already know he has an accent.) But I will continue to write his actual German speech. Thank you for reading! Please Review!


	2. A wonderful night

Kurt's POV

_"_Das war erstaunlich", I find myself saying. Whoa, breathe Kurt, breathe. I think the stars in front of my eyes have finally disappeared. Could this moment be anymore perfect? My angel, Amanda, is lying on my chest (snoring lightly), there's no homework this week (surprisingly many of the teachers have come down with a rare virus), and Scott hasn't made us do any danger room sessions (thanks to the fact the rooms getting rewired). Oh, and did I mention…. I just got laid!

Can life get any better? Ich denke nicht! It's kind of cold in here. I want to close the window, but I'm afraid Amanda will wake up. Oh what the hell, what's a little chill to the comfort of being beside her warm body? Correction, her warm, naked body.

Kurt Wagner, you, are the man! Oh man, she's so beautiful. That soft hair, that smooth skin, that wet…woo it got a little hot in here for a second (I could be mistaken, it could just be our body heat). The last thing I need is for Amanda to wake and to my huge boner, we'd have to repeat tonight's little episode all over. Wait, that's not exactly a bad thing.

Well it is when you have to get up early the next morning, I suppose. I glance over at the clock, which in this state, I barely make out the numbers 3:12.Which reminds me, while I'm basking in bliss; I've got to get Amanda back to her house. The professor would have a cow if he found us here. Worse yet, what if Logan found us together…can you say D-E-A-D?

I'm not going to even worry about that now, for the moment Amanda's lying next to me, and that's truly all that matters. When the time comes, it'll come. I lick my dry lips (I think I'm dehydrated from all my ahem...work) her musky taste still remains. I smile in spite of myself.

Something is irritating my leg to no end; with my free hand I reach under the covers, and pull something out. Hah, it's one of Amanda's braids. I shake my head, I'll be gentler next time…I'll **_try_** to be gentler next time. I snuggle up closer to Amanda and I let the loosened braid fall.

Author's Note: the next chapter will be longer, I promise. I'm trying to turn the chapters out ASAP, but between school, a boyfriend, and a needy family, who can ever get work done. Please review!


	3. The accident

Mystique's POV

I am not a morning person. No, definitely not a morning person. I am startlingly reminded of the fact, as I turn over, and the unforgiving light of morning covers my face. For a moment, I meditate on the idea of pulling the covers back over my head and feigning sleep. The moment passes and I return to rational thinking.

As I sit up, I see Eric is not longer next to me. His impression still sunk into the bed. His spot is still warm; he has not been awake long. I will not search for him; he has not gone far, he never does. I am bound to run into him, as I walk the hallways of this hellhole we call a house.

I push the rumpled navy blue covers away from me, and let them fall where they may. I suppose I am partial to the color, having boasted it for so long. I stand and walk into the adjoining bathroom. One of the few (and I do mean few) luxuries I have in this house is my personal bathroom. None of the other occupants of the house are so fortunate.

Trundling, I make it, in only a semi-daze, to the sink. A thin layer of steam covers the mirror; proof that Eric has made an appearance here. With what I believe to be my right hand, although I'm not entirely sure due to the state of sleepiness I am in, I swipe at the mirror. I feel a grin tug at my lips at the site of my nude form. If I am not mistaken, a purr of appreciation has escaped my lips.

I am such a vain creature, though I feel it should be permissible due to my unique physical state. I mean, truthfully, how many women can say they would admire themselves if they possessed an indigo figure? Not many, I can assure you. Over the years, I have become acquainted as well as proficient in this body. I am strong, lean with solid muscles, and pretty shapely if I must say so myself.

I know every curve, crevice, ridge, and bump. Anyone would I suppose, if you were naked 90 of the time. I have come to almost detest clothing. It's so…restricting, just another way for governmental society to limit the human race. I wear them only when it is obligatory.

This means, I am almost always clothed in this house. Once the thought slipped my mind and Todd saw a little more than he was suppose to. Let's just say, the poor boy hasn't been right since. His mouth permanently hangs open now, and not just because he wants to catch lazy flies.

Enough about my body, even if it is fine and sculpted. Sometimes I get so entranced by…me. I wouldn't get anything done, if I didn't have the ability to tear myself away from my bedazzling. To this day, Mystique is still somewhat of a mystery to me.

Unwillingly, I move from the mirror to the damp shower. A slight mist still fills the room, making it moderately warm. I reach for the slippery knobs and carefully adjust them to a balmy temperature. I watch, as the small clear droplets come together and quickly become a puddle, a pool, a river, and finally an ocean in the confines of the sandstone tub. Once the tub is considerably more than halfway full, I ease in.

I welcome the tepid water like a longed for lover, as the liquid envelopes me nearly completely. All my senses are instantly peaked. From my heads' point of view bobbing above the water, I watch my submerged body. The blue of my skin agrees with the light blueness of the water generating somewhat of a cerulean reflection on the sides of the tub. I wiggle my toes and find I take some pleasure in the sight of the ripples they create. I watch as strands of my scarlet hair float not-to-distantly in front of my face, almost taunting the darkness of my skin.

Scarlet, hmm…the color is loud, compared to my darker body. I have always wondered about that. What genius screwed up and decided to turn Picasso on my genes. Was God having a bout of color blindness when he saw fit to craft me? Well, we can't be perfect all the time, now can we?

I snort, very un-ladylike at my own cruelty. I do not exactly like the color, why lie? I hate it with a passion! Humph, of all the things I could choose not to like about myself, I choose my strangely colored hair. Mystique you are a queer one, I must admit. I don't truly dote on the fact, seeing as I have the ability to change it with the blink of an eye.

A need to just yank out all of the offending locks passes over me. Thankfully, if there is one thing I have a lot of, it's self-control.

I once had dark hair. Yes, I wasn't a brunette but a striking child with midnight black hair, hence the name Raven. But that was a long, long time ago, when I was but a child. Hmm…what is it about a hot relaxing bath that makes one reminisce? Whatever it is, I do not believe I like it.

I become vaguely aware of the fact that my skin is starting to prune, and a heavier steam has settled over the bath. I grab a washcloth (whether it is Eric's or mine I can't be sure) and hastily bathe, not wasting valuable time. I gaze at the mixture of soap and dirt (not truly visible, but there nonetheless) as I rinse myself. I must have truly been in a daze because I realize that all of the towels are in the hallway closest. Not truly a problem, I'll air dry.

I go to step out of the tub as my foot unknowingly rests on a nail (which I will later wonder how it got there), the pain is enough to send me stumbling. I let out a small yelp and watch a puddle of blood start to form. My other foot gets caught on the side of the tub, tripping me, and sending me headfirst into the rigid side of the sink. The impact jars my skull, distorting my vision. I blink trying to regain focus; it doesn't help.

I never think to scream as I feel my body crumble into a heap by the sink. Red mars my vision, or what little of it I have left. With what I am sure is my last conscious thought, I wonder just how in the hell a three-inch long nail got into my bathroom.

Author's Note: All translations courtesy of Alta Vista. I am very proud of this chapter. I like the way it turned out. I've never written from Mystique's point of view. I tried to make her sound…cynical, very sophisticated. How I see Mystique as a character. Of course this chapter included Kurmanda, I am a die-hard fan. The next chapter will be occurring while Mystique is subconsciously remembering a past memory. Please review, critiques welcome. Please forgive any spelling errors or mistakes, I try my best.


	4. Sweet Sixteen Dreams

Berlin, Germany 1989

What a wonderful dream I had last night. I remember it in vivid detail. Ha! Papa's always telling me what a bright girl I am. "_Ray_," he always says in his booming baritone, "_You're as smart as a whip, don't ever let nobody tell ya differently, ya hear me?"_ That's probably why I still remember the dream.

I dreamt it was my sixteenth birthday. Decorations of red, blue, green, and gold lined the house. The fire in the hearth burned brightly and filled the house with the sent of burning pine. Mama was at the table, her long hair falling over her shoulders, her white apron smudge with bits of cake batter. Papa was holding my little brother, Yevik as he sputtered, in that secret language only babies know. There were lots of people lounging, mostly village kids, whose names I don't remember.

Everyone was laughing, talking, and eating. Small packages wrapped in brightly colored paper, I took to be presents, were sitting in a corner against the timber walls, and waiting to be opened. In the dream I rushed upstairs. I rushed past the old family photos, sprinkled with dust, of my great-grandparents Lvon and Mischika. I rushed past my parent's room and made my way into my room. The scent of Lilies and babies' breath filled the room.

There it was lying on my bed, exactly where Mama said it would be. The dress, the beautiful dress my mother made especially for my sixteenth birthday, the day, when I became a woman. I reach out and touch the soft gauzy fabric. It feels airy between my fingers, like cloth made by fairies. I can't believe this was once my great grandmothers wedding dress. The dress she wore as she say "I do" to my great-grandfather Lvon, as they boarded the train bound for the "new world". I can almost feel my history woven into the threads.

The dress is amazing. Although simple in its straight silhouette, the small gold designs of roses across the bodice show the time my great-great-grandmother put into it. I can imagine her gnarled hands sewing the fabric by the dim light of candles. The dress has been passed down from generation to generation, from my great-grandmother to my grandmother, my mother, and finally to me.

I am almost afraid to put it on, my hands shake. What if I rip one of the seams? Though, there is little chance of that happening, my mother worked endlessly to get the dress ready for me, sewing and mending many hours. I am still hesitant; I have a natural knack for clumsiness. I firm my resolve and press the dress close to my body. I turn side-to-side trying to imagine the dress on my skinny body. The light catches the strands of gold thread making the dress shimmer.

Hastily, I slip off my ragged hand-me down shirt and trousers. Carefully, I slip the dress over my head. It floats over my body like white liquid, falling gently into place. I adjust the tiny straps and turn to the mirror. The vision that greets me is unfamiliar, hardly my own.

In place of the tall, skinny pale peasant clad in ragged clothes is a princess dressed in her silk best ready for the ball. The little straps of the dress leave the front of my almost non-existent cleavage, exposed to the warm air. My long red hair, falling in waves over the dress, looks radiant next to the creamy white of the gown. My eyes shine, I look…beautiful. I concentrate hard and try and envision my great-grandmother, Mischika, getting married in the gown that I am wearing. Did she too look into the mirror and feel herself become transformed? The thought makes me laugh. I spin and spin, enjoying the rush I get.

When the room finally stops spinning, (long after I've halted) I take another look into the mirror. A powerful blush creeps to my cheeks. I should have returned to the party a while ago. I take the brush off the edge of my dresser and run it through my hair, a little harder than usual.

"Raven, langsames Kind, beeilen sich oben," my mother's voice floats up the stairs. As I smooth down the dress, I swear I can hear my soft Mischika's laughter following me down the steps. I move as slowly as a snail in autumn, I don't want to trip or damage the dress. As I reach the stair landing, I see my mother's face. There are tears in her large blue eyes. I want to take her in my arms and tell her that I'll always be her little girl. Instead, I walk gracefully down the steps to the whispering and staring of my friends and family.

I have to look anywhere but at my mother or I'll start to cry too. My papa is standing next to her looking like the proudest father in the world. For an instant, I can see the young vibrant man my mother married 25 years ago.

"Ein was für Anblick, eine Prinzessin, do I not have the most beautiful daughter in the world," my father boasts loudly. A chorus of agreements rises up to meet his declaration. My blush deepens.

Playfully, I slap him on the arm "Oh, Papa."

My mother dabs at her eyes with the end of her apron, "Mein schönes, your Mischika would be so proud of you."

Before I can respond, thankfully my father steps in. "Come now my love, our little Mädchen is growing up. If I am correct, I believe there is a cake in the living room with a special someone's name on it."

I smile and follow him in the living room. I try to avoid catching anyone's eye, concentrating on taking miniature steps.

The cake looks beautiful, icing at its edges as soft as clouds. My father quickly gathers everyone into the living room (much too small to accommodate every member but somehow they all fit). His booming voice calls for immediate attention. When Papa speaks everyone listens. I feel strange; I don't like the stares boring into me, even if it is my birthday.

The cake sits in front of me, my family pressed close at my sides. I feel slightly claustrophobic staring at all of their smiling faces. My mothers hand lands gently on my shoulder, "Go ahead meine tochter, make a wish" I stare hard at the cake my mother slaved all day to bake, the sixteen candles flicker and dance in the still room.

I turn my head and look at all the expecting faces. Tall, short, old, young, every possible variation stands before smiling with a happiness that resonates around the room.

The candles flickers, "What shall I wish for?"

I have my friends, my family, my history, what more could I possibly wants? My mother and father's hands are clasped tightly, love radiates from them in invisible waves.

Love.

That is what I shall wish for, a love of my own, someone who is exciting and handsome, and someone to spend my lone nights with. The thought of some handsome prince descending from the clouds dances before my eyes. I shake my head; I am too old for such foolish fantasies. The cake looms before me, waiting for me to choose an action.

I will not keep everyone waiting.

I blow out the candles with a soft breath, the wish still fresh in my mind. Everyone claps, and I am relieved. My cousin, Gyna looks to me expectantly, "What did you wish for?"

My only reply is a sly smile.

It is rumored, that if you revel your wish to someone before it comes to pass, it never will.

Perhaps that is why I kept my mouth shut.

Author's Note: I hope you liked this chapter. Remember, the setting is in Germany in 1989, Mystique is having a memory of her sixteenth birthday. Please review, hoped you liked the chapter. The next chapter also takes place in a memory, although Mystique will not be dreaming.


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